Precipice
by Roguie
Summary: Love was when it hurt to not be together, but Marty Deeks was just fine on his own.  Really.


Title: Precipice

Author: Roguie/SunSpecOps/Danae Bowen

Fandom: NCIS: LA

Pairing: Kensi/Deeks

Rating: T

Spoilers: None

Summary: Love was when it hurt to not be together, but Marty Deeks was just fine on his own.

Disclaimer: NCIS: LA quite obviously doesn't belong to me, I just like to borrow the characters and mutate their inner voices. Please don't sue, my house is small, my car is useless and my dogs are pains in the arse, but they're all I have.

A/N: It's going to kill me to write for two fandoms at one time; voices are going to be off, couples are going to be crossed - it's horrific to contemplate. But Jo and Zane are a month away from coming home, so I've an entire month to give my muse over to Kensi and Deeks before I start feeling guilty again, since Eureka just has this way of knowing when I'm about to cheat on it - this is my first published Kensi/Deeks piece, but there are two more on my hard drive waiting to be finished. Every time I start writing them Eureka randomly appears in marathon runs and I've lost it before the end. Sneaky little buggers if you ask me, so, I'm back to writing at work where Jo and Zane can't interfere! This is just a little internal fic, testing out how I feel about the characters and where they stand in my world of worlds. In the future, there will be dialogue that I will have to answer for, maimings that I will have to accept responsibility for, but if there's smut, don't come blaming me, my muse does those fics while I'm sleeping. :P~

A/N2: My muse does accept bribes. Just saying.

~~~E~~~

It wasn't love. Not really.

Love was when she'd leave the room and every atom of his body would scream for her to return, every breath painful when she wasn't there to evelope him in her smile. No, Deeks was breathing just fine and Kensi was no where to be seen at the moment, so it definitely wasn't love. The fact that his world was cold and empty without her, that any girl he brought home was a pale imitation of what he really wanted, that his blue eyes didn't sparkle like the ocean under the sun unless they were turned to her, none of that registered. Love was when it hurt to not be together. When they were apart, Marty Deeks didn't feel anything worth mentioning at all.

When they were together, however, that was an entirely different topic. Hunger? Infatuation? Addiction? Borderline obsession? Those were probably a pretty decent description of his all encompassing need to be by her side at all times. There were rules that had to be followed, however, and he tread that line very carefully. Look but don't touch; of course, she never really noticed his shoulder bump into hers in tease, transferring her scent to his clothing for a very short while. Some days that was enough, sitting at his desk, in his car, wherever with her distinct scent wrapping dark tendrils around his brain. Perfume and chocolate mixing with something headier underneath and it makes his eyes roll back as he breathes her in, every nerve in his body tuned and at attention, begging for more.

He was so attuned to the very presence of her that he knows the moment she's in the building. Now, he could feel her watching him silently from her vantage point, hidden by the lattice work and plants. He glanced up quickly, surprising her, catching something unreadable in her dark eyes before a bright smile crossed her face and his heart stopped beating in his chest. He thought for a moment that she'd stolen every ounce of air from the room with that smile as his lungs rejected oxygen and he had to force his fingers to curve into the palms of his hands, nails biting flesh, to bring himself back down to earth.

A thousand words ran through his mind as he lost himself in her eyes, melting into his chair as all but a single part of his anatomy turned to jello. Kensi'd kill him if he ever spoke his thoughts aloud; she'd not want to know the possessive spark that shut down his higher reasoning. Want. Need. Mate. Mine.

Fuck.

The sight of Callen striding into the room, wrapping his arm around Kensi's neck and pulling her down to mess her hair had Deeks seeing red. Literally. Everything in the room was tinged with a red hue and he could swear a new vein throbbed in the side of his forehead as he fought to remain neutral. It was just one friend hazing another, treating Kensi like one of the guys, and he knew this. The rage was an instinctive response, he told himself, bred from two years of being partners, of always having her back. It had nothing to do with watching another man lay hands on her when he had to stay safely away.

When he looked again, she'd fought Callen off playfully and was just tossing her hair back into place, her dark eyes sparkling mischievously. Her grin was crooked and inviting, her breathing was heavy as she stretched out the fingers she'd used to knock the wind out of their friend. Deeks' own breath caught in his throat at the sound of her laughter, his heart beating heavily as his emotions spun and the rage turned back to want once again.

He tried to avoid her gaze as he struggled to bring himself back under control, but his eyes betrayed him. They had darkened to cobalt blue, the pupils blown wide by promise, his jaw twitching as his teeth ground together tightly, stopping him from panting like a dog at her feet. She knew what she'd done, she always knew what she was doing. It was often a matter of survival for Kensi to wrap men around her finger, forcing them to their knees at her feet with nothing more than her smile and a gentle touch; for Kensi, reading the signs and signals of an infatuated male was second nature. Deeks was no different.

It couldn't be love. Love was something shared by two people, a foundation upon which to build a life of happiness, not one person longing for the briefest of touches from another, drinking greedily from the small droplets of hope that would fall from her in infrequent storms. How could it be love when his world was rocked by the barest brush of her arm across his back, a trail of sensation burning the skin beneath her fingers, while she carried on with her day undisturbed? Of course, when she caught him in her guileless gaze, her fingers doing indescribable things to the soft flesh inside his elbow, his brain ceased processing blood and like all men well and truly tamed, her will was his ultimate command.

He sighed, beaten but not yet defeated. Those little touches, her scent accidentally on this clothes, her radiant smile turned in his direction, that would be enough for now. He would follow her like a well trained dog and pretend his heart didn't threaten to shatter every time her eyes turned elsewhere and he found himself left alone, cold and without feeling until the next time she'd come into his life and make that day worth living.

After all, it wasn't love.

Not really.

But damned if he wasn't on the precipice, threatening to fall.

~~Fin~~


End file.
